What Goes Around, Comes Around

The sink drains the thick red liquid from her hands after she snuck back in through her bedroom window. She stares at the dirt and blood stains on her and her clothes while the shower starts. The hot water and soap clean her flawless skin and she washes the clothes too. Once a week she goes out; once a week she avenges her horrid memories.

~~~

Dad haunts the place. Sll the rooms and hallways, spreading the smell of his anger and scarce ways. Mom doesn't notice, but I do. Mom had never known anything–– she was blind to it all. Taking off of his belt, the screaming, and, "Teaching me a lesson". I couldn’t tell mom or Sara. Even if I did, Mom was too doped up on drugs to even hear me, and Sis wouldn't have believed me.

Dad is gone, but I still hear him shout at night. I still feel his hands, as cold as the heart he never had. Sometimes I wake up forgetting he’s dead, and the fear consumes me. Sometimes I think he’s not actually dead at all, but coming back for me.

I’m not usually this weak, but tonight is different. I put on my lingerie and warm clothes to go out once again, grabbing the items I need. I make sure Mom’s asleep, though she always is, and I leave. I walk in the cold dark rain through my neighborhood to the road. Following my GPS, I’m almost to the house.

Then I see him. I thought he’d never come back. What a mistake he made. I stop in front of his house where he stands.

“Hey, mister?” I say with maybe too fake of a smile.

“What's a pretty girl like you doing out here so late?” His sharp eyes look at mine and for a moment, I almost lose it.

“Just looking for somewhere to go. Can I bum one of those?” Head motioning to the cigarette in his hand.

“Sure, come here.”

It’s a shame this world, really. All these people doing unimaginable, unspeakable things. And I turned out to be the same.

I decided to use a knife, though I’d like him to feel worse. After a little, he started to trust me, and like all the men, fully admire my little body. Once he made a move I buried my six-inch steel in the side of his throat and I heard him choke on the blood filling his lungs.

Another kill that steals a piece of me, but another piece of me avenged. This man was the man who stole my sister's life. He and every bastard like him deserve this.

I do this for my sister who lost her chance at life, for the girl who had her innocence stolen by family, and for every other beautiful victim who had to endure the pain. And I don’t think I can stop.

Instantly, I'm bombarded with a tremendous pressure. Blood pours out my stomach and my body fills with a burning pain. Looking around, I notice a small hole in the window.

And again, with no noise but the muffled ringing in her ears, a bullet strikes the chest.

I guess it’s true what they say: what goes around will, eventually, come around - one way or another